


Waiting

by KarkaHatchlings



Series: Guild Wars 2 Interstitial [4]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Adventure, Conversations, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Battle, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 07:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14420811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarkaHatchlings/pseuds/KarkaHatchlings
Summary: A norn and his human acquaintance wait for Tequatl the Sunless.





	Waiting

One line arced concave through the sand, reaching to be joined by others, tracing the contours of the Splintered Coast.  The curve of the northern side of the Straits of Devastation was pierced by more lines representing the termini of the currents washing Risen up on the shores.  Tapping the sand with the stick he held, the hylek grunted, puffing out his throat. "Risen come here, attack our grounds. We hold firm in the north, at our village walls.  Here..." His bulbous eyes blinked slowly, "here there are not so many hylek to stop them."

Garbrech scowled behind the visor of his helmet.  Not so many hylek, but some asura from the nearby lab, their devices, and adventurers.  Always adventurers. They crowded around him to look at the map scratched on the beach, feeble waves lapping at a steadfast stone.  Regarding that, he tended to make estimates of strength based just on the number of norn among them. A quick count confirmed there weren't many.  So much the better for his own legend.

Reaching out, he plucked the stick from the hylek's hand, his massive fist making it seem the merest twig.  The original owner didn't resist, of course; how could he? Garbrech extended the coastline off to the side with a long, bold scratch, carefully but firmly shouldering aside the people standing in the way.  Plate and mail clattered as they crowded back, only the heavily armored giving much resistance before budging. Off in the east he'd drawn, he sent other lines launching back across the Straits, into Orr proper.

Helmet lifted, he took in the crowd, scanning for signs of understanding.  A melange of faces, furs spotted and striped, ruddy, sallow, swarthy skin, more colorful and exotic bark and petal, and stone and earth-toned hide met his gaze, but only a few were considering what he had drawn with anything approaching the concern he thought it deserved.  The rest preened, tested weapons, or eyed him as if he were a foe, rather than a rival. Another norn in forest-colored armor returned the appraisal with an inviting look of his own, but Garbrech shook his head. His interests ran in a different direction, and this was a time for preparation, not distraction.

The stick plowed more lines, extending the Risen attacks across the beaches, off into the east to sever those southbound arcs.  The flanks of the Pact offensive into Orr were exposed, and no one had thought to send troops here, as if walking frogs and mere swampy terrain would hold back an army that did not eat, sleep, or fear.  Perhaps the hylek could stand against shambling thralls, but with the rumored arrival of a dragon champion? They would be a drift of powdery snow before the blade of an axe.

The norn allowed himself some grudging satisfaction as he saw understanding steal across at least a few of the faces in his audience.  When he thrust the stick back at the hylek, point illustrated, the creature just blinked bulging eyes in incomprehension, so Garbrech let it fall between them.  These hylek, these adventurers would be ready, or they would not, but at least they could understand the stakes. He, on the other hand, stalwart follower of the spirits of the wild, would be ready to tear the throat from his foe with his teeth if need be.  He, and presumably his comrades in arms, when they arrived.

Tall among the gathered crowd waiting on the shore, he swiveled his great helm to look for those comrades, enjoying the feel of the bands of armor around his mighty chest shifting to contain him.  Looking to the north, he spotted the slow amble he recognized as belonging to the human, Charter. The man's coat was stained at the tails, trailed in blood during a fight. Garbrech nodded in approval, though the human hadn't seen him yet, and began to walk slowly, giving everyone time to make way for him, to meet the man.

Charter stopped at the edge of the crowd, just as the enormous norn breached its border like a walrus heaving itself onto an ice floe.  Blue eyes, dark like still, deep water, glared down from the slitted helm, meeting the blue of a shallow, rushing stream that peered from under the human's broad hat.  The color fit him, the norn reflected: Charter was a man on the move, restlessly roving in his own calm way, even in the heat of battle. It was not Garbrech's way, of course, but he could admit that it was a way.

"Krait attack," offered Charter by way of explanation, gesturing back the way he came in the direction of the nearby asura lab.  Shucking off his coat, he made his way to a tidepool, rinsing the browning stains from the edges of the fabric as best he could. Garbrech followed without comment, a silent, massive shadow to him.

When Charter rose again, donning his coat, the norn inclined his head, a small nod at the empty space beside the human.

"Oh, Pleek," the question was grasped quickly, "she's fine.  Or should be." Concern flickered across Charter's face for a second.

"She was worried," Garbrech didn't think that was strictly true, but let it pass unremarked, "that we'd be too late.  I came to help here, and she went to make sure Balrit stayed out of trouble. The others, they have their business." That, at least was true:  it might have been better to assemble more of them, but the norn knew they were not thralls to come at the mere crook of a finger.

"I know Mippa's in Hoelbrak, getting ready for her first foray against the Svanir," Charter continued, speculating on the whereabouts of the others as he looked out over the colorful crowd assembled on the beach.  Already having disregarded it as being of little consequence, the norn let the words pass around him without taking hold, focusing his attention on the gathering as well.

Adventurers had slowly settled into small knots according to bonds of skill, friendship, guild, or other ties beyond Garbrech’s concern.  Some talked in voices low or loud, others merely stood lost in their own thoughts. Food was laid out on the sand, and became the focus of slow mingling, though Charter and he remained where they stood.  Messenger birds flitted back and forth, last messages or bits of business to conduct on the wing.

“It’s a motley crew,” the human said quietly, echoing, in kinder sentiments, his companion’s own thoughts.  Garbrech’s armor was a well cared-for gunmetal in color, the shade polished from the bands of steel after they were wrenched, screaming, from the quenching trough.  Here, though, he saw dyed cloth, leather and enamel on metal in as many shades as the ribbons strung in the night sky over the Shiverpeaks.

Charter was silent long enough that when the norn finished considering a charr in flamboyantly spiked armor with the same interest as he might an extremely colorful insect, he glanced down to check on the human.  The shorter man was looking over his shoulder, back to the east, searching the narrow pass through the mountains that lead down to the beach, perhaps hoping to see someone there. Garbrech nudged him with an elbow, carefully, to return his attention to the moment at hand.  There’d been a change in the wind.

From the north, it carried the chill bite of snow, suddenly, with the faintest whisper of a growl.  No one else on the beach showed any awareness of the change, but that was no surprise. They didn’t hear Snow Leopard like he did.  Garbrech unlimbered his axe and cudgel, giving the former an experimental swing, and was gratified to see Charter following suit by checking the action of his rifle.  It was time.

Out beyond the shore, a massive, dark shape moved in the deep, powerful flukes driving it to the surface.  

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in /gw2g/.
> 
> Events referenced here correspond to in-game events: player characters gathering for the spawn of a world boss, Tequatl the Sunless.


End file.
